The Dark Girl
by Puddytangel
Summary: Batman tries to help a sick little girl and find an antidote to the Joker's new gas. But the girl has her own secrets.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

JADE'S POV

It's dark out tonight, I thought. It was so dark I didn't wanna go, but I had no choice. I had to eat.

I was waiting for Ryan. He was late. They were supposed to be holding up a tobacconist's together. It would be my first ever job. I'd committed crimes before, but not like this, not so directly. Not with a victim.

I was about to loose my innocence and I was only eleven. But I lived on the streets and the others had expressed discreetly their thoughts on supporting me; If I wanted to profit from their crimes I had to help commit them.

On the other hand, I thought, it could be worse; there are kids in this city who sell their bodies to perverts. At least this doesn't involve some creepy "uncle".

I shifted my weight a bit. I was sitting on a curb and the cold of the concrete was creeping up through me or perhaps it was just nerves, but I was shivering. I didn't feel well, I had a cough and perhaps a low fever but it was no excuse for bailing on Ryan and his... friends.

A car pulled up. It was old and rusty but someone had managed to bulk out the engine. It had five seats. It was currently trying to seat seven.

Ryan leaned out of the front passenger window, his long black dreadlocks dripping over the door. His "friends" leered at me.

"Get in, Rat!" he ordered. A door opened and I clambered in. One of the guys tried to touch my bum but quickly stopped when Ryan passed me a pistol.

I looked at the gun. I'd never fired one before; I'd never even touched one. It scared me.

The guys had noticed. They started cracking jokes about me never having seen a gun before. Virgin, they called me. Ryan leaned around his seat at the traffic lights and showed me how to prime and load it, demonstrating the safety catch. It was a crappy revolver. Four of the chambers didn't work. I only had two shots. Ryan gave me one bullet; said if I screwed up I could only shoot one of them. Not that he intended me to have to fire it, he added quickly, seeing my panic.

We arrived all too quickly. The mall security guards were weird. They all had pale skin and greenish hair. They leered at me too.

We waited around looking for a park that allowed a fast getaway.

One of the guys handed out balaclavas. I took one. I was the only girl in this heist other than the driver so he gave me a pink one.

I.

HATE.

PINK.

I glared at him. He snickered. I put it on anyway.

We piled out of the car quickly and efficiently. We swung through the tradesmen's entrance. Everyone screamed and cowered when they saw us. I didn't like the screams, but I kept going. We saw a security guard running down a side entrance. He stopped suddenly but he hadn't seen us. He was just heading towards the screams. He turned and ran in the opposite direction. I looked at Ryan. It was hard to tell through the balaclava but I think he was just as confused as me.

Batman sat at his computer. He was not happy. If Dick or Alfred had been their they would have probably commented something like "and this is unusual because?" but they weren't. Dick was upstairs watching a movie and Alfred was keeping him company.

Again, he was not happy. It was too early to go out patrolling and Dick was taking a break from training. He could try pumping iron or meditating, but boredom was not his problem. His problem was the very complicated virus and chemical mix mapped in front of him on his computer.

It was the virus in the Joker's new gas. It had already proved deadly to two innocent bystanders at a robbery. He had to find an antidote before the Joker implemented his plan - which he still didn't know. He'd worked twelve hours straight and he'd had no luck. He'd deconstructed the virus, viewed it under microscope and even been reduced to seeing what it reacted with – it was immune to antiviral medication. The only thing that killed it that wasn't deadly to humans was pain – it triggered the immune system, which after 48 hours had produced enough antibodies to fight it off. But pain caused the heart rate to speed up and all sorts of things. The chemicals mixed in became deadly to the vital organs when moved around so much.

Nothing gave him a lead on how to beat it.

Alfred called down from upstairs.

"Sir, you are needed."

The bat signal was up. Dick skipped down the stairs looking worried. He always looked worried. He always wanted to come along, which was ridiculous.

Batman shook his head, feeling like a murderer at the look on Dick's face.

"No." He said

Dick grumped a bit but cheered up when Alfred suggested he have some ice cream.

Batman pulled the bat mobile out of the cave and headed towards the GCPD.

He pulled up and made his way to the roof, managing to surprise Commissioner Jim Gordon as always. Jim made no comment. It must've been a bigger problem than normal if he didn't mutter under his breath.

"We have a lead on the Joker." He said quietly.

" A security guard who works at the main plaza in old Gotham was found dying – joker gas. It didn't work as quickly as usual on him - he got a few words out between his last convulsions. Told us Joker's goons had stolen his uniform and headed towards the plaza. None of the other security guards have reported for their shifts. We've got plain clothes people investigating but we lost contact a few minutes ago." He concluded.

Batman nodded.

"Any threats?" he asked

"Not yet."

With that he slipped away. Gordon would send the SWAT team in after he was done tying up the Joker.

He drove to the plaza at break neck speed, though he'd never admit it, he loved the rush he got from driving that fast, but now was not the time to enjoy it.

He leapt from the bat mobile and used his grapnel to pull himself to the roof. He checked the roof and the building exits: both clear.

The plaza had twelve huge skylights with five story drops below each, and two roof exits.

He checked his surroundings before crouching down and peering through into the building. He doused any nearby light sources so his silhouette wouldn't shine through the window. It still would show up a little against the stars. There were two civilians that he could see, a grandmother and a little girl, hiding behind a pot plant. The grandmother had a walking stick – she couldn't move fast. He was going to find a way to keep this rescue self-contained. He couldn't evacuate the building without risking them.

He heard the SWAT vans arrive. No more time to waste.

Batman pulled a bottle of acid from his utility belt. It would dissolve the seals on the glass. He traced around the glass plate with it and gently levered it out and placed it on the roof beside him. Next he took a small black box and attached it to the window frame. A sonic resonator that would keep his exit clear and knockout anyone who came within a meter of it. At five meters it would burst their eardrums. All he had to do was activate it and he'd be the only person who could get past – his cowl insulated him from its waves.

The next step was finding out where his enemy was.

He gently swung himself into the building, sticking to the corner with the shadow.

He looked at the two civilians crouched beside the pot plant. He swung side ways and dropped to the floor. He let his feet make noise so they'd know he was there. They whimpered.

"You need to find a better hiding place." He growled

They looked up and jumped. He always had that effect, even if they knew someone was there.

"My Gran," whispered the little girl "She can't walk. She needs two sticks. She lost her other one."

Batman nodded. There was a shout and maniacal laughter from two floors below. The enemy was quite close. He examined the pot plant they were sitting next to. It was fake. He ripped the leaves and greenery of it until it was nothing more than a long steel rod, which he the pulled from the flowerpot. It was a bit heavy for the old lady, but it would do. He handed it to her.

He used his heat vision in his cowl to see a safe way out of the building.

"Go that way," he pointed, "until you reach the toilets. Turn into them but keep going along the corridor until you get to the staff room. There's a direct exit out from there into the car park. Got it?" The girl nodded and hoisted her grandma to her feet.

Batman took out a nearby camera with a batarang in case the Joker had a man on surveillance. He retrieved the batarang

He chose a pillar on the side of one of the large holes in the floor made to hold escalators. He swung down, taking out every camera he could. Two floors down he stopped. He was on level three of the building. Near the cinemas and food court. In between them was a toilet and tradesmen's entrance and opposite them a chemist and tobacconists. The yells and cries were coming from the food court. Shots broke out and he ducked around a pillar. He put on his gasmask and unhooked his grapnel. He pulled his remaining batarangs from his belt. 3 left and plenty of smoke bombs. He could handle this easily. He looked into the food court. There were twenty henchmen and lots of civilians hiding under tables - at least two dead. He cursed himself. He should've been here sooner.


	2. Chapter 2

Oops! last time I forgot the Disclaimer;.I don't own Batman or any of its characters. I owned think I once had a batman figurine I nicked of my brother. Does it count if its stolen from siblings?

Note- I know I can't write in character for Joker. Just can't get it right. Don't flame me about it or I'll cry at you and you'll be all embarrassed cause I did. Sides, its my first Fic and thats just mean.

Please Review!

* * *

JADE'S POV 

We rushed in through the trades-men's entrance. I wondered at the time – was it just me or were there far too many people in the loading zone. And none of them were tradesmen or loading anything. We moved on up into the corridor but stopped when we heard shots. Ryan checked everyone was there.

"So who's shooting up there?" he asked. He shrugged "distractions 's good."

I realized that the people in the trades-men's entrance must've been shoppers sheltering from gunfire. Ryan was taking us in their despite the firefight.

I felt panicky.

We ran on. Ryan hauled me by my jacket to the front of the group. We went past garbage shoots, tearooms and change rooms. Ryan was using me as a shield in case of any oncoming bullets or people.

We burst out of the end of the corridor. Ryan pushed me forward and we ran into the tobacconist.

It was still open but there was no one behind the counter or in the store. Ryan tried to empty the cash register but it was locked. He started hitting it but to no avail. I went round to help while Ryan's friends covered the entrance.

Without warning a shot was fired. Closer this time. The guy that had tried to feel me up earlier dropped and a mist of blood covered the shelf behind him. He was dead.

I screamed.

Ryan pulled the cashier open, grabbed a few handfuls of fifties and ran. I followed. Ryan had promised me everything would be alright.

The guys followed us across to the corridor. I was the second person past the corner and Ryan was just in front. As soon as I was in the corridor a smattering of gunfire erupted. A machine gun. I watched all Ryan's friends fall down. I stood there in horror. It was only Ryan and I now. I heard Ryan swear from further along the corridor. He'd tripped but was getting up and keeping running. I followed. I didn't want to die.

* * *

MEANWHILE… 

Batman swore under his breath. What were the chances of that? Two separate groups – one unknown and committing a robbery and the Joker plus goons trying to commit mass homicide – at the same time and place.

Joker seemed to have realized he had competition.

"Freeloaders! Trying to steal the limelight! Looking for something else free? Have my lead!" He shouted.

Shots broke out. One of the guards the robbers had put at the front of the store was given a brain piercing. There was a scream from inside the shop. It was high-pitched and young.

Batman realized he had to act now. There could be an innocent in there. The Joker was distracted – the hostages here were relatively safe – the Joker's goons didn't have their guns trained on them.

He aimed his first batarang. Joker first. He didn't hire smart goons so they wouldn't be able to do anything too major without him.

Smack!

It embedded in his shoulder. Joker let out a cry of pain and his goons stopped firing to see what was wrong – but not before the most of the robbers were dropped.

Batman aimed his second and third batarangs at the machine guns. He threw them and leapt from his hiding place. A punch was thrown at his face but he dodged. The fist was loosely curled so he broke the fingers. The guy was an amateur. Couldn't even punch well.

A side kick to the one who was trying to rush him. The man's nose made a snapping noise and he fainted. He ducked from the next two and grabbed ones coat and sent him crashing into the other. Five down out of fifteen. Joker was clutching his heavily bleeding shoulder but still issuing orders.

"Shoot him!" he shouted.

Ten more thugs with pistols. He dodged back behind the concrete pillar. He felt the bullets thump into the concrete behind his back, making it shudder. A gas capsule was rolled his way. He put on his gas mask and plugged the outlet on it. He dropped a flash grenade on it and it went up without hurting anyone. A fragment grenade rolled at him next. He shot his grapnel and hung from the roof. He flipped across into the safety of the shadows.

The grenade exploded and the pillar collapsed. Shrapnel flew past him and shattered the light globes. A piece sliced his chin.

Joker shot six of his own goons. He was going psychotic on his troops. There were only four left unharmed. They took one look at the Joker and ran for the nearest exit – the corridor opposite the tobacconist. Batman was about to drop on Joker and secure him. But the joker saw his reflection on the polished floor and shot up. The bullet grazed his shoulder but didn't penetrate. Of more consequence was the fact that it snapped his suspension line.

He flipped and landed in a heavy crouch, which he turned, into a roll so the impact didn't break his knees.

He chucked his first aid pouch to the nearest civilian and ran after the Joker. He was standing outside the corridor where his goons had run. He was laughing.

"Toodles!" he said, waving at someone or something down the corridor. Batman snatched both of his waving hands ands ripped the savagely behind the man's back. He secured him with a pair of handcuffs and ran down the corridor – He had to make sure the gas didn't get into the loading zone where people might be sheltering.

There was Joker gas everywhere. The bodies of Joker's goon's had just stopped breathing and began to twitch. The death toll grew higher. He was glad for his gasmask.

* * *

JADE'S POV 

I was running as fast as I could so when Ryan suddenly stopped at a garbage shoot I ran into him and knocked him over. His gun went of and I felt the bullet rush by my ear. He swore loudly and smacked my face. He hauled himself up and began to work at the opening to the garbage shoot. There was a metal flap over the entrance and a thick padlock held it in place. Ryan swore again and shoved me away. I slipped and fell on the ground. Ryan tried to pick the lock, but it was slow work. We heard six more shots and laughter and frightened cries. Then we heard the footsteps; someone was thundering down here after us – more than one-person – lots of people. There was another shot and the footsteps came faster, whoever they were they were running for all they were worth. Ryan began to shriek and bash his head against the metal flap – and then the padlock clicked open.

I helped Ryan haul it open. He clambered in first then kicked out. I caught his foot in my stomach and he slammed the door behind him. I tried to open it but he was holding it shut from the inside. I struggled and pulled with all my might. Nothing. He was deliberately holding it shut.

I was betrayed – but I couldn't think that right then. I couldn't think anything.

All of a sudden the footsteps stopped. I curled up in ball and tried to block out the sound, but I couldn't.

There was the sound of laughter and pleading - then coughing and retching, then nothing.

I sat curled in a ball pulling my stupid pink balaclava down over my eyes. The air was thick and hard to breath but I was managing it. I felt dizzy but that was probably just the adrenaline rush. I tried not to think about how many were out there bleeding to death.

I didn't want to know.

I didn't want to know because it was my fault.


	3. Chapter 3

Batman walked on through the corridor stepping over the bodies – evidence of his failure. He wasn't going to sleep well for months – if he slept at all. There was another body curled up in a ball under the garbage shoot. Next to it was the shoot's open padlock.

So close yet so far.

This body was different to the other ones. It was female, small and it wasn't one of Joker's goons. He moved closer and noticed the balaclava. She was one of the robbers.

Pink? He thought looking at the balaclava. Who robs a place in pink? What self-respecting criminal robs a tobacconist's in a fluoro pink balaclava? Then he heard a whimper. He looked closer. This one was still breathing, for now anyway. The Joker gas was just taking while. Again he was thankful for his gas mask. He radioed Gordon.

Bring ambulances, coroners, and a Hazmat squad for this corridor, he said.

He looked at the dying robber again. She was whimpering again, it was strange. She was whimpering the words of a song.

_You are my sunshine, my only sunshine_

_You make me happy, when skies are grey._

Her voice was young. He wondered how old she was. She was almost certainly the girl who screamed in the tobacconists. He reached out and grasped the balaclava. The girl let out a gasp and stopped whimpering. She held her balaclava on and opened her eyes. The moment she saw him she tried to pull away.

JADE'S POV

I heard someone mumbling something. The only word I caught was Hazmat, if that's even a word.

I felt weird. My head hurt. There was so much pressure above my eyes.

My chest hurt. I couldn't breathe. Maybe I had been shot and not noticed. Maybe I had been shot like all of the others and I was going to die.

I thought about dying. I thought about it often. Now it was here and I was scared. I wanted to feel safe. I remembered when my dad used to sing to me to make me feel safe. Later I sung the song to mum when she was sick and after that I sang it to myself because I couldn't sleep or stop the pain that wracked me. I knew the words by heart –

_You are my sunshine, my only sunshine_

_You make me happy, when skies are grey._

Something tugged at my balaclava.

No. Wouldn't let them take it off.

I opened my eyes.

There was a shadow sitting in front of me. My eyes cleared a little. It was a bat. No. It didn't look like a bat. Bats look almost alien.

This was a man. Batman.

Crap. Run.

I shuffled along the wall, crawling my way on the cold floor. My vision grew fuzzy. I couldn't breathe. I gasped.

My chest hurt. I couldn't breathe. I felt like I had a knife between my ribs.

I fell face first onto the floor, squirming.

Must breath, must make it go away.

I moved my clothes so my chest was in direct contact with the floor. The cold would help. Help the pain. Make it go away. I rested my aching forehead on the marble tiles.

Just wanted it all to go away. I closed my eyes and pretended the world wasn't there. No pain. No dead people. No batman. No hunger.

No fever. No cough. No alleys to sleep in.

No feeling anything. No remembering.

Nothing. All gone.

She collapsed. He went up to her. She was still breathing, but only just. He took out a rebreather from his pocket. There still wasn't much clean air in there and the amount of Joker virus was still lethal. He gently lifted the girl's head and removed the balaclava. He stopped. She was young, very young. Her voice sounded older than she was. He'd guessed she was in her early twenties by her voice, but this girl couldn't have been older than fifteen, at the higher end of the scale. He put the rebreather in her mouth and turned her on her side. Her shirt was pulled up so he moved it back down, but not before seeing how shrunken her flesh was. She was skin and bone. She whimpered and reached up, clutching her chest. Batman reached out and held her hand. She was taking so long to die and she was probably the most innocent person here – just stealing to get money for food.

It wasn't fair.

He sat there. He didn't know for how long. The Hazmat squad arrived. The told him to get out before they sealed off the area. He looked at the little girl. She was still breathing. He told them she was still alive and he wasn't leaving her. They looked doubtful but they let him carry her out of the corridor. The virus didn't transfer person to person so far. She wasn't a risk.

He set her down on the bench and removed the rebreather.

Then he turned. Expecting to see Joker being led away in handcuffs, laughing. Instead there were only his handcuffs – melted through with acid, and lying on the ground. The Joker had escaped.

Anger pulsed through him. He'd screwed up again.

But there wasn't time for that now.

Batman went and sat next to the girl again.

Still breathing.

Commissioner Gordon looked miserable. The coroner's van wasn't big enough to fit all the cadavers.

He walked up.

"Bad situation." He said quietly "not like you needed telling though."

He nodded.

"How many casualties?" Batman asked

Gordon knew he couldn't soften the blow.

"Fifteen dead, plus the security guards. Seven injured. The rest with mild exposure to joker gas. The virus shouldn't multiply enough to kill them" Jim looked at his feet. He knew Batman would be feeling guilty. The moment he'd said fifteen dead he acted as though he had been physically hit. "You still did a better job than anyone else could've. Most of them were dead before you got here." He tried to comfort

"There still dead."

Batman looked at the girl. Jim did too.

"Shouldn't she be getting treated?" he asked.

"No. She's terminal."

They both knew there was nothing to be done. She was unconscious and not in pain. The coroners were standing by waiting for her to stop breathing so they could put her in a body bag.

"She sang earlier," whispered Batman.

"Swansong."

They sat and said nothing. The coroner looked like he wanted to cry.

There was a small cough from beside them. Then a whole fit of coughs and a whimper. Batman and Gordon looked at each other. The final symptoms of joker gas was coughing, euphoria, retching, convulsions, paralysis, unconsciousness and then death. Usually this happened within a minute or two but sometimes it took longer, like the security guard that had tipped them off. Sometimes they slipped out of their coma and came back before dying.

Batman reached out and grabbed the girl's hand.

"Does it hurt?" he asked

The girl didn't answer but tried to sit up. He gently pushed her back down. The paramedics were hurrying towards them. The girl tried to sit up again.

"No. Lie still." He ordered.

The girl glared at him. He looked right back.

The paramedics came and setup. One of them got out a needle to put an IV in.

The girl sat up, struggling. Batman tried to push her down again. This girl was dying and she was worried about a needle.

She ripped his arm off of her and tried to leap over the bench. Her foot caught in the bench railing and she stumbled, landing on her knees with a nasty thud, one knee went pop. She got up and kept going. Trying to run. She was trying to run but was easy to catch up with. She limped heavily and couldn't draw breath.

Batman caught her in the next corridor outside the cinema. It occurred to him that she shouldn't have been able to run if she was sick. She tried to hit him to escape but he caught her wrist. She tried to hit him again, but he caught that one too.

Gotcha.


	4. Chapter 4

JADE'S POV

I looked at him. He had me by both wrists. He was holding me too far away for me to kick his shins, which were armored anyway. I was a robber, he was Batman. Police were just outside the cinema.

I was screwed.

There were also paramedics. I realized I probably wasn't wearing my ridiculous balaclava anymore if I had paramedics on me – they'd have taken it off to see if I was turning blue and to check pupil reaction. I must have spaced out for them to do that. But the needle woke me up. They always did.

It wasn't the actual pain of the needle that bothered me. I coped with far worse. It was the fact that it was in me and it stirred up bad memories. Here I was spacing out again.

"Why aren't you dead?" growled Batman

"D-don't know," I stuttered, coming back to life

"Then you're coming with me." He said

I looked at him. That wasn't good. That was bad; very, very bad.

He turned to the man named Gordon, who had caught up. He was the only one who had. He'd probably told the others to stay behind.

"I can hold off the red tape for forty eight hours." Said Gordon.

Batman nodded

Batman tossed me over his shoulder in a fireman's lift. It knocked the wind out of me. I was still gasping when we got outside into a back alley. He set me on my feet. My legs were weak and shaking. My left one, that had gone pop earlier, didn't want to work. It wouldn't straighten out. My chest was hurting again. I could feel the pain welling up into my stomach. I felt like I was going to puke. Without warning my other leg gave out. I landed on my arse on the dirty concrete. A hand reached from the darkness behind me. It grabbed me roughly by the arm and flung me against a wall. I whimpered. Ouch.

"Who are you?" came the growl. It sounded different in the dark.

It was a sound you could believe would cause you physical pain.

The voice made me wince and I was reminded of every single shout I'd ever heard.

I was reminded of the time I was staying in a crummy caravan park and I couldn't sleep so I sat out front and listened. I heard all the dark noises of the night but the one thing that stood out was the sound of the man next door beating his wife. That's what the growl sounded like; the man beating his wife.

I was spacing out again. Seeing times past. Remembering. Remembering was bad.

I didn't answer his question, I was to busy thinking. His grip on my arm became painfully tight. I let out another whimper

"Who are you?" he growled

"J-Jade." I whispered

"Jade who?"

"Smith" I said. It wasn't my surname. He knew it. His hand tightened further.

"Camdom" I gasped. Way to let my biggest secret go.

His grip on my arm loosened a little.

"Why didn't the gas affect you?" he growled. It was the same growl as before.

"What gas?" I asked. I hadn't seen any gas. Or smelt it.

He swung me around by my arm and pushed me to the wall again. My back smacked against it with a dull thud. He still wasn't close enough to kick.

"Don't play games." He said, deeper and darker than ever. In my head the man stopped beating his wife and grabbed a knife. He rammed it into her chest and she fell dead.

I couldn't see batman's eyes through the cowl, but when imagined what they must've looked like, I felt like curling up into a ball again and never coming back.

"I'm not! Not playing!" I cried. My chest was getting worse. It was getting hard to talk. I couldn't breathe either.

"It killed all the Joker's goons. Why not you?" He said again. The pressure in my chest was building.

I remembered the coughing and crying and pleading of those men. I remember the thumps as their bodies hit the ground. He was right. Why not me? Why had I been spared?

"I don't know." I sobbed.

Chest – can't breathe - hurt so much – want to die – make it stop! I thought. So I did stop. I stopped breathing.

My chest stopped hurting but my head started throbbing from lack of oxygen. I closed my eyes because they felt like they would burst from the pressure. I heard someone swear. Something plastic was shoved in my mouth and clipped on my nose – blocking it. It breathed into me. It caned.

No! No! Make it stop! No! Too much! Too much pain!

I felt like my ribs were splintering and my organs spilling out. I couldn't hold on. I tried to scream as loud and hard as I could but the only sound that escaped was a strangled wheeze.

I was picked up. I lifted my arms and tried to pull the thing from my mouth but my arms wouldn't move. They were being held.

I heard noise above the buzz of pain. I wanted to scream, but there was no breathe to do it with and I couldn't open my mouth. It was covered with the plastic gadget. I writhed with the pain, trying to lean forwards to get rid of it somehow, to scrape it off of me, but I couldn't. I was tied in a sitting position by something. I couldn't open my eyes to check. They were clenched shut.

I heard the noise outside increase to a roar. Pressure built on my chest. More. All the time. Couldn't breathe. Hurt so much. I felt something trickle down my face. My eyeballs must have burst. My eyes didn't hurt – my chest hurt, it hurt so much.

I tried to remember the song: maybe it would help me forget, but it wouldn't come.

I blacked out.

* * *

Batman looked at her. He let the full intensity of his glare unleash on the girl.

"I don't know." She sobbed. She gasped and stopped. He looked at her more. She closed her eyes and all of the sudden she went limp. She slipped, but he pulled her up. She wasn't breathing.

Was she playing dead?

He waited a minute. No. He couldn't afford to risk it.

He swore out loud and pulled the rebreather from his belt. It was built to cope with unthinkable pressure. It would breathe for her if something were wrong with her. He changed the setting so it would fit her lungs this time and put the clasp on. She screwed up her face in agony. He heard her try and whimper in pain. He felt her try to pull away but he didn't let her. He picked her up and walked the short distance to the batmobile. He hoped he was doing the right thing. If this was a trap set by the Joker, they were all dead – him, Alfred, Dick. If this girl was working with the Joker or a tool to get inside the cave…

He prayed his instincts were right. He prayed he was doing the right thing.

Why was he taking this risk? If he were wrong they'd all die. If he was right no one else might die from joker gas.

He started up the batmobile. He may as well get it over with. He turned and looked at the girl when the traffic lightened and he wasn't dodging other cars. She was crying through her closed eyes. Suddenly she went limp. Unconscious. She wasn't pretending. He was safe.

He sped around the twisting road towards the entrance to the bat cave. He parked it and radioed Alfred. He told him to put on a mask and come downstairs. He had a patient for him.

* * *

JADE'S POV

I woke up. It was strange. I hadn't expected to wake up. I'd thought I'd just sleep forever – that I'd be dead.

I heard mumbling. I tried to make out the words

"Illness, - - field medic - - can't treat - - doctor - -"

There was a quieter mumbling that I couldn't make out. The other voice mumbled in agreement. The voices seemed so far away. I couldn't reach them.

I shivered. I was cold, so cold. I tried to move my arms to wrap them around myself but they were strapped in.

What was going on?

I closed my eyes and tried to sleep for a while – I couldn't. My thoughts were moving a hundred miles an hour, I remembered – the interrogation, the pain, and the straps of the car pushing against my chest. But I wasn't in the car now. I wasn't sitting up. I was lying on my side, held down by straps around my hips, chest, arms and legs. The thing from before was still in my mouth, pushing air into my lungs. It hurt. The pain was so sharp I felt as though hot tar were being poured into me. I wanted to scream or moan or kick something – but I couldn't. I couldn't yell anymore. I was too weak.

Something wet and soft slapped me across the forehead. I jumped. I'd spaced out again.

What was it? What was the thing? It felt like a furry slug.

"She's awake, sir." Came a voice from nearby.

It was right next to me. It was the person who had mumbled about a doctor. He had an English accent. There were footsteps. Someone lifted my eyelid and shone a light in it. They did the same to the other. The light burned and I tried to move way, but I couldn't. My chest throbbed again and I screwed up my face to stop the tears.

"Do we have any morphine?" asked the British voice

"You know the electricity of her nerves reacting is the only thing that has an effect on the virus. We've already given her something for the chemicals." Said the second voice, It was deep and gravelly. Like a dog growling.

"Besides, she'll be here very soon."

I shivered again. It was so cold, and yet I could feel the sweat running off of me. I tried my best to curl up into a ball but couldn't so I just tensed up and listened to the blood rushing in my ears. It hurt again.

* * *

Batman looked at the girl. She said her name was Jade. That bit was true. She'd looked him in the eye when she'd said it. Her face hadn't been hollow. Her surname was Camdom.

He'd need her medical file. He typed it into the batcomputer to search. Alfred was cleaning her up. Presently he stopped.

"Sir, she's burning up." he said "An unusual reaction to the gas, perhaps?"

"No. I think she was ill before the gas. She's very thin and…" the other thing was fairly obvious. The clothes she was wearing were worn and ruined. She smelled like she only bathed once a week. Her hair and teeth were unbrushed and she probably had fleas. He'd noticed it before. This girl wasn't looked after, probably homeless – she would be susceptible to illness. It wasn't fair for someone so young to be like that. He realized he probably wouldn't find any health records on her, but it was worth a shot.

The computer came up clear. Nothing. Damn. He'd hoped he'd been hoping to be lucky.

He stood and walked over to the small cot on which the girl was tied.

"Anything I can do?" he asked

"Call Leslie." Answered Alfred brusquely

"I can't. She wouldn't approve. She'd realize my reason behind taking her," he pointed out

"I personally don't approve either, but she's better off here than if she'd escaped, though I doubt she'd agree. I don't know that my skills will be enough" Said Alfred

He began removing the girl's clothing, cutting it off if he couldn't get it around the straps. He bagged the clothing in an airtight evidence bag, leaving her in only her underwear.

"There you are, sir," he said handing them to Batman who was looking at the girl a bit confused.

"Couldn't you have waited until we had something else for her to wear?" he asked, taking them.

"No. Minimal clothing to combat the fever," replied Alfred

Batman nodded.

"Of course."

He felt stupid and sluggish. The sleepless nights were catching up on him.

"Call Leslie." Said Alfred "I know she won't approve, but I'm just a field medic, I can only treat injury, not illness. I can't treat this, sir. She needs a doctor."

Batman nodded. Alfred sounded quite desperate.

"She'll die if you don't, Bruce." He said quietly.

"I'll call her," he said. He pulled a phone of the wall. He had her number on speed dial. She answered.

"Hello? Leslie? It's Bruce."

"Bruce, what's wrong?" came the reply

"There's a sick girl here. She was exposed to Joker gas, but I don't think that's what's doing it. She needs help."

"Bring her here." Said Leslie

"I can't." May as well take the plunge.

"Why not?"

"She didn't succumb to the Joker's gas. I need to know why. I can only find out with the chemistry lab here."

There was a disapproving huff on the other end, then a sigh.

"Using someone as a guinea pig! Do you know how despicable –"

"Leslie, Please? There's no other way. Helping her will come before the investigation. I promise. I won't touch her until we know she's alright." He sounded like a small child.

"Fine. I'll be over – but don't think I support it." She hung up.

Bruce put down the phone and went over to try and help Alfred. He knew he hadn't heard the last of Leslie's anger.

Alfred had a stethoscope out and was listening to the girl's breathing with a scowl on his face.

"What's wrong?" He asked

"Her breathing. It's not right. It's crackling," said Alfred. "She has fluid in her lungs."

Alfred took out an ear thermometer and gently took her temperature.

103.5 Fahrenheit. It had gone up by half a degree and it had only been five minutes.

Alfred dipped a cloth in icy water, squeezed it a little and placed it on her forward. She jerked a little. A flinch.

"She's awake, sir." He said.

Batman gently lifted her eyelid and checked her pupil reaction. She tried to pull away but stopped. He could see her grimace even through the rebreather. Pain.

"Do we have any morphine?" Alfred asked

Bruce explained that they couldn't give it to her – it might have an adverse effect.

* * *

JADE'S POV

I felt something cold on my back –where it hurt most in my chest.

I gasped for breath when it pressed against me – It was freezing and it hurt.

"Easy, take it easy." Said a soothing female voice

I couldn't. It hurt too much. I gasped and coughed. It hurt even more. The thing fell off of my face and I cried from the pain.

"Stop it." I gasped, "Stop it hurting!"

"We can't yet." Said the voice.

The straps around my body were undone – which helped my chest when the chest strap was removed. I was rolled over onto my back. I kept my eyes closed. The straps were done up again. I struggled when they tried to put the chest strap on. It was left undone. I coughed again. The pain was getting worse.

"Take a deep breath." Said the voice.

"No" I whispered, "can't"

"Try"

I tried. It hurt. I couldn't breath any deeper.

Someone took my arm and started searching for a vein. I tried to struggle, but I didn't have the strength. My chest hurt too much.

I felt the needle pierce me. I saw the images flash past. I felt my eyes get wet

"No. Don't do it, please" I cried

My chest hurt too much when I'd cried. I couldn't breathe. I could feel them attaching an IV to my arm.

"I'm going to give you a sedative. It'll make you sleep." Said the voice. I felt pressure on the IV, and then things changed.

It was like it wasn't my body. It hurt, but I couldn't think or feel – the only feeling I felt was pain, and it was different than before. It felt like any other feeling – like happiness or joy, but I knew this was pain. Pain was all there was.

* * *

Batman watched Leslie examine the girl. They sedated her and Leslie had thought it necessary to intubate her. There was an icepack wrapped around her head to try and protect her brain from her rising temperature. Leslie drew blood from the IV. Six vials. Three for finding out the girl's illness and three for finding out why she hadn't died when the Joker gassed her, Leslie could take more blood if she needed, Bruce wouldn't.

Batman was even considering a link between the illness and the gas.

He remembered reading somewhere about the world's first vaccination. It had been against Smallpox. Some doctor in the 1700's had realized that all the milkmaids didn't get smallpox, but only the ones that had had cowpox. Cowpox had been the vaccine for Smallpox. People who caught cowpox couldn't catch smallpox and so vaccination was born.

Perhaps this wasn't so different. Perhaps whatever was wrong with the girl had saved her.

He put her blood sample into one of his machines. It deconstructed it. Her platelets were slightly down. Her white cell count was extremely high – but that was to be expected – she was fighting whatever she had, but not enough to defeat the Joker's virus. He used his computer to search for all known antibodies running though her blood to fight infection. On a normal computer it might have taken a week, but his computer was better than the ones NASA used to orchestrate the paths of spaceships. Several flags came up.

Measles mumps, Purtussis – All the live vaccines came up. She'd been immunized. That surprised him. A free clinic perhaps? Or had she not always been homeless?

A few others came up – a type of strep and chickenpox. They were too common to be a cure.

There were millions of others but none of them identifiable – in other words, she was a perfectly normal, filthy human being.

He broadened the search by a tiny bit – allowing close matches to slip through.

He got three thousand answers. He organized them by the frequency in which they were found. The most concentrated one stood flashing at the top of the screen. It was unidentifiable.

He told his computer to search for near matches.

Pneumonia of some type, obviously. The computer came up with a 70 match.

Microplasma Pneumonia. He called Leslie over. She took a close look at it.

"I get this occasionally with some of the homeless people at the clinic. We treat it with Emoxil – penicillin and a drain in the lungs." She said "But with only a seventy percent certainty, I'd get a sample of the stuff in her lungs first. I can't get past her breathing tube to get it and I'm not willing to take it out unless she's awake."

Bruce looked at her. She looked uncomfortable.

"So, we wake her up?" He asked.

Leslie nodded.

"It won't be nice."

She injected the sedative reversal. It was a slight stimulant, but they hoped that wouldn't do too much damage.

"She'll be awake any minute now." Said Leslie. Alfred changed the cloth on her forehead. Her eyelids fluttered a little. She let out a heavy cough and winced, tears flicked through her eyes. Leslie gently removed the tube. She coughed several times and convulsed in pain. Her chest was hurting too much. She stayed quiet though.

Leslie explained what she was going to do;

"I'm just going to put this down your throat to see if we can get at whatever's making you cough. It might make you vomit, so we'll sit you upside down – make it easier."

They moved the bed so that she was tilted and her head was lower than her chest.

She looked terrified.

Leslie was very gentle. The tube must have tickled the kid's throat as it went down because she coughed harder than ever and tried to pull away, but couldn't. Bruce held her in place.

They were all relieved when they finally got the sample.

"We'll send you back to sleep now." Said Leslie.

"Wait." Whispered the girl "No penicillin. It'll kill me." She gasped

She coughed again, but this time it didn't stop for a few minutes, when the girl finally blacked out.

Alfred intubated her again while Leslie looked into Batman's medicine cabinet.

There was an alternative to Penicillin. It was a thick, pink liquid to be taken orally. It was too late for that. She had something at the clinic that could go intravenously. She tapped Batman on the shoulder. He was searching the Internet for information on the pneumonia. He was very deeply engrossed.

"I need you to get something from the clinic for me." Said Leslie "It's the penicillin alternative, kept in the back supply room in a taped up box next to the penicillin. I'd go myself, but she needs a lung drain desperately – her oxygen levels dropping."

He nodded.

He took off in the batmobile. He didn't like playing errand boy, but someone's life was at stake. He'd bury his pride.

He rushed as quickly as he could. The medicine was exactly where Leslie said it would be. He hurried back.

Alfred was swabbing an area on the side of the girl's chest, but of more note was the large tube sticking out from the middle of the area he was swabbing. A thick yellow liquid was draining out of it. It looked like pus.

Despite his strong stomach, he thought he was going to be sick.

Leslie snatched the IV bags of him and hooked them up, before taking the girl's temperature again. No change – for better or worse.

Batman sat at his computer.

An idea had occurred to him in his rush–

What if the microplasma virus was an antidote to the Joker's virus?

He needed a sample of the virus. He went to his machine and made it extract the joker virus from the blood. It took half an hour.

Usually he would meditate or do something to distract himself but coughs kept echoing up from his patient in the medbay. They broke his concentration. He'd go visit Dick, but he didn't want Dick to come in even distant contact of either of the viruses even if they didn't seem transmittable. He also didn't want to have to explain about the dying little girl in the cave. It wouldn't be good for Dick. He'd seen enough people die. Dick was only ten; his immune system hadn't fully developed yet. Even mild exposure to the joker's gas would kill him.

He'd used twelve of his forty-eight hours up. Gordon could only make the girl disappear so long before people started asking questions.

His machine beeped. The sample was ready.

He carefully put it into a sealed area and mixed it with the Joker virus. No effect.

Perhaps the anti bodies her body created then? He extracted them from the last vile he had. He mixed them with the Joker virus.

The virus died on contact. It died so quickly the concentrated virus seemed to fizz.

For the first time since this fiasco had begun, Bruce relaxed.


	5. Chapter 5

JADE'S POV

I woke up and I couldn't see. The furry slug was on my head again. It covered my eyes. It was freezing. I shivered. My chest was moving better, like a greased wheel, but it still hurt so much. There was a tube down my throat. It was making me gag. I tried to cough but it only hurt my throat. I couldn't see, so I listened. I sounded like I was dying. My breath was a wheeze. My chest still hurt, but the pain was different. The pain was a kind of throb now.

Was I dying?

If I wasn't dying then what was happening?

I tried to remember if I knew where I was.

I couldn't. I remembered a voice with a British accent and a kind lady's voice and a horrible menacing growl. That was it.

The cloth on my forehead was changed for an even colder one.

I flinched.

I tried to turn to see who had changed it, but I had trouble. The tube in my throat moved when I moved. I coughed again and it hurt my throat. Something wet trickled down my face and it wasn't from the cloth.

I was crying. Again. Dammit.

Something wiped the tear away away.

I tried to reach out to whoever it was. I felt like a baby must feel in a humidicrib- stuck away from the world.

My hand landed on someone. They took it and squeezed it gently. Whoever they were they were friendly.

"It's going to be alright," said a voice.

It was the British accent. It was kind and it belonged to a man. He sounded old – about retiree age at least. I opened my eyes and looked at him. I couldn't see his face because he wore a mask. But he was kind to me, like Steve.

Steve was an old man I shared an alley with. He's the one that set the fires and cooked me roast pigeon, if I could catch the pigeon, that is. He looked after me when I ended up on the streets. Steve didn't get angry when I cried and I didn't get angry when he cried. He wouldn't die because he had me and vise versa. He had to look after me; I was the granddaughter he never had. And he was the grandfather I wish I'd had. Steve and I were a team.

A lot of people who have things as rough as Steve and I try not to feel anything. Steve and me only felt things when we sat and talked at night. We'd sit down around a burning garbage bin and decide what we wanted to feel. Then we each told a story. If we wanted to feel happy, we'd tell a story that made us laugh. If we needed to feel sad we would tell a story that made us cry. We laughed and cried together.

Steve and I only told one story a night, otherwise we'd run out of them.

At that moment I missed Steve more than anything in the world.

I wanted him to tell me a story that would make me think and cry and laugh all at the same time. But he wasn't there. He had been given a life with a house and food and a walker to help his knees. He came and visited me every day, but he couldn't come at night anymore- he wasn't homeless. He had too much to lose wandering the streets at night.

I realized suddenly I'd drifted off again, but maybe that wasn't so bad. Someone was holding my hand this time.

* * *

Batman wandered over to see what Alfred was doing. He'd just dropped of the antidote to the Joker gas to have it replicated and mass-produced.

He frowned when he saw.

Alfred was sitting and holding Jade's hand. The girl was asleep, though he doubted it was a natural slumber with all the tubes and machines stuck to her. No one could drift of like that.

Occasionally she would twitch a little, but she was otherwise completely immobile.

All of the sudden his victory was nothing

A little girl was sitting and dying in his cave.

As though sensing his morbid mood, Alfred turned to look at him.

"She's doing a little better." He whispered

"Her temperature's coming down. Leslie's napping upstairs in the study. I've rang Wayne Enterprises and told them you won't be in today. Dick's gotten himself ready for school and rung a taxi to drop him there. Things are as good as they could be, considering. Master Bruce."

Batman smiled.

"Thank you, Alfred. I'm going to get some sleep."

* * *

JADE'S POV

When I woke up, I felt better. I'd kind of been in a daze for a while. I wasn't sure how long. It was probably drug induced.

I was mostly unstrapped except for my ankles and wrists. The breathing tube was gone. So was the one in my chest, even though it hurt like hell were it had been. My left knee was strapped up. I felt better, even though I was still coughing.

My IV line was still in. I was probably catheterized as well, but I didn't want to know.

I was all of the sudden quite hungry.

How long have I been here? Wherever here is - Probably the lair of Batman. I thought.

I was pretty sure on that. I could hear bats squeaking somewhere. Real bats, not Batman. I could not imagine him squeaking. Even if you smacked him in the crotch with a hatchet he'd still sound the same, just even angrier.

I sat for a while and tried to mull things over. I tried to put the events in order.

I'd tried to rob the tobacconists.

Batman had caught me

He'd questioned me about some weird gas that had killed these men while I sat and listened. (That thought stung)

I'd passed out or something.

I woke up here.

There had been three people. A woman who shoved a tube down my throat and probably saved my life, a man with an English accent who tried to comfort me and then the Batman.

I didn't know what any of them looked like. They'd all been wearing masks.

So what happened now?

My stomach growled.

How long had it been since I had eaten?

I had no idea, but I was starving. I wondered what bat might taste like - probably worse than street pigeon, and that's saying something.

How was I going to catch one? How was I going to cook it?

Damn it. I'd go hungry

The door opened, interrupting my thoughts.

Batman strode in. He looked more human under the lights. His chin had a scratch on it. Still looked pissed though.

He placed a tray in front of me and turned to walk out.

"Thank you." I said automatically.

The tray had a small bowl of vegetable soup on it and a glass of juice.

I tried it. I hadn't tasted food this good in over a year. The soup was gone before I'd even started. I was sorely tempted to lick out the bowl but I had a feeling I was being watched; there was a camera in the corner of the room.

I downed the orange juice as well.

After that I sat back. I was severely bored. I tried going back to sleep but couldn't.

So what now? Was I going to spend the next few hours sitting twiddling my thumbs?

The room I was in was a bit weird. It had lots of power points and no spider webs.

I got the impression it had been emptied so I could be put in here. It was like a hospital ward where I was the only person. Completely empty.

My bed was the only piece of furniture, and even it was weird.

I felt strange, like I wanted to talk to someone or go out to tea with mates.

I realized then. I was lonely.

I hadn't managed to feel lonely in a long time. I'd been hunched up. There had never been time for thoughts on the street, except at night with Steve.

Steve told me that thinking too much could kill you, and he was right. But if we didn't think we didn't feel, so we had these nights were we would talk about something that touched us. We'd decide what we wanted to feel.

Now everything was back to normal in my head. I couldn't decide what I wanted to feel anymore. It came out without any control.

I felt like my own brain was crushing me. So many thoughts I should be having and so much pain each one would cause. I didn't want to feel them.

I couldn't sit like this, knowing people were dead because of me. Not knowing what had happened to my family because of me. I couldn't dwell. I needed activity.

I looked around and fidgeted. I tapped my fingers on the straps that held me to the bed. The silence was making me squirm.

Nothing worked. I couldn't distract myself.

How would I feel about asking Batman some form of entertainment?

"Hi Batman. Do you have a telly?"

That idea was laughable

How did I feel about having my vital organs crippled?

Same answer.

I looked around at the empty room.

I felt like crying.

Oh Steve, I wish you were here. I thought.

My face grew wet again.

I wish you were here so much.

* * *

Batman sat in his chair watching his prisoner. He had to hand her in to the police in eight hours.

She wasn't really anything like he had expected, or more, she was what he expected of a girl with her age or looks except for the whole thieving and homeless part. She was normal, not that he could surmise much from a simple thank you and a few terrified words, and she seemed a good person.

He decided he'd make sure she got a nice foster family through child welfare services, he'd keep an eye out for her, make sure she didn't start thieving again.

He glanced up at the monitor again. The girl had finished her soup fifteen minutes ago, but he didn't want to get the tray until she was asleep. Then he saw she was crying. He should probably check on her.

He walked into the med lab and she immediately froze when she saw him.

She mumbled something nasty under her breath.

"Sore?" He asked

"You wouldn't have a book or something would you?" she said

He looked at her. A book? Crying over lack of entertainment? Spoilt brat.

He must have misjudged her.

"No." he said stiffly

"Um, is there anything I can do? Clean something even?" she asked

"No." he growled angrily

"O-o-okay. Sorry." She said

He turned to leave. He heard her singing quietly under her breath until she was coughing. It made him stop.

"Why do you sing?" he asked

"Huh? Oh, sorry. Stops me thinking," she gasped around coughs

He said nothing, but he didn't leave. There was an uncomfortable silence.

"You sang before? When I found you?"

"Yes." She whispered. Silence lapsed again

She opened her mouth to say something, but closed it.

"Yes?" He asked

" W-what happens now?" she asked

"You will go to child services. In all likelihood, no one will press charges and you will be put into foster care."

Her eyes widened

"Nice foster care." He added quickly, seeing her fear.

"Okay." She whispered. She coughed some more.

"My friend will be along soon to check up on you."

She nodded, covering her mouth.

He walked off. He'd try and find her a book she could read, but something that gave nothing away. Charles Dickens might be beyond her, but The Hobbit might do, if he could find Dick's copy.


	6. Chapter 6

I tapped my foot. I twiddled my thumbs. I played the Alla Turca on an imaginary piano. Anything was better than crying. Anything was better than feeling like this.

The room was too empty. It was driving me mad. My clothes also bothered me. I'd been changed and washed while I was unconscious and I was wearing a hospital gown with an open back.

Was I going to appear at child welfare services with my butt showing to the world?

And what had happened to my knee? When would they take the stupid bandage off it?

What was going on!?!?

A while after that a lady came in. She had a mask on so I couldn't see her face. Great. Another mystery.

She asked me how I was feeling and I told her I was fine, if a little bored and worried.

It was the same lady from last night.

She listened to my breathing and heart.

Then came the checking of my leg. I didn't like it.

Every time she moved it it hurt. I must have fallen on it harder than I thought.

Maybe I would be better off without my leg? I tried to point out to her.

She just gave a smile and shook her head.

"You'll be fine with some physiotherapy." She said

"What happens next?" I asked.

I hadn't been completely satisfied with Batman's answer. It had some gaps in it. Like pretty much everything.

"Well, unfortunately you caught a type of pneumonia that can't just be treated with pills. You're going to need intense physiotherapy for at least six months to clear out your lungs."

"Oh." I said. Bugger.

"At least they can fix your knee while they're at it." She tried to cheer me up.

"I guess. How much longer will I have to be on a drip?" I croaked. I was still coughing like a chronic smoker

"Another three days, at least. Sorry." She said

"So I'm stuck in here for another four days?"

"No. We'll have you transferred to a hospital some time."

"Thank god. This room is sending me mad."

This lady was very easy to talk to for someone who I knew nothing about. I probably should have been more guarded but she was the first friendly face i had seen since they took Steve away.

We sat and talked for a while. I even laughed once. Company was something I was missing. After a while the woman glanced at her watch.

"I should go then. Oh, yes. I was told to give you this."

She handed me a book. It was a copy of the hobbit.

"Thank you. And tell him thank you as well." I said, and settled down to read my book.

Maybe the batman wasn't as dark as he pretended. Maybe he was human in there as well. Somewhere. Not that it was any business of mine.

* * *

It was time. He'd used up most of his fort eight hours.

He crept in to the cell. The girl was sitting and reading. She hadn't even heard him enter. He used all his skills to remain silent. If she didn't know she was being sedated the sedative would work quicker because she wouldn't panic. It was better if she was relaxed for this.

He snuck up beside her. She hadn't noticed.

He slid the needle into her IV's cross tube and was about to push the plunger when she spoke to him.

"Sedative? G'night, then."

He didn't answer but emptied the syringe. She didn't have time to say anything more.

Her head slumped to the side. The sedatives effect was immediate. She was unconscious. Leslie came in and removed all the tubes except her IV, which was detached from its machine and bag. The remaining tube end was secured to her arm with tape and a cap put on the end. It would be reattached when the girl went to hospital

He was about to pile her limp form into the batmobile when Leslie tapped him on the shoulder.

"You might want to give her a jacket or something. Its cold out and that gown doesn't even make her decent, let alone warm"

Batman grudgingly draped a spare cape over her before buckling her in and propping her up with pillows.

Kids, they're so much fuss, he thought, so much you have to do just to keep them alive.

He drove carefully to the police station, taking the corners far slower and gentler than usual. The last thing he needed was to give the kid bruises. If she were awake he wouldn't have to worry because she wouldn't risk smacking into the door. Even with the seatbelts on it was still very rough.

He just wanted to get it over with. Drop the kid off at the police station and have her moved to the hospital. Then he could go and get some rest and update his files on the computer. Then he wouldn't have to live with the guilt of abducting and hurting a kid

He pulled in behind the police station.

Ah. Here was a problem he hadn't anticipated. How would he get into Gordon's office with his unconscious burden? His usual trick would be impossible with his arms full.

He'd bring Gordon to him then.

Batman locked the batmobile and fetched Gordon.

Gordon looked like he hadn't slept in days. He'd also been smoking again. Batman could smell it. He gave the usual jump when batman appeared but he looked too exhausted to say anything.

He followed batman downstairs and out to the batmobile.

Upon seeing its occupant Gordon frowned.

Obviously, thought batman, his feeling guilty about sending her off with me to have god knows what done to her.

"She's been sedated. Should wake up in an hour." He said.

He handed Gordon a folder.

"Her medical records. She had pneumonia. She's been treated but she should sent immediately to a hospital for further treatment."

"And the antidote to the virus?"

"The pneumonia created the antidote."

"So she was innocent." Said Gordon

"Excluding armed robbery and resisting arrest."

"Kids these days"

There something important he was forgetting. Oh yes, that was it.

"Make sure the hospital doesn't give her penicillin."

With that he carried the girl into the police department. An ambulance was rung. Gordon looked around from the phone but batman had gone.

He was left with an unconscious girl who was not going to be a happy camper when she woke up. Also, his pipe tobacco had mysteriously disappeared.


	7. Chapter 7

When I woke up, I was in a hospital. There were people around and they made noises. It wasn't lonely anymore. A few bed bays down a screaming toddler was having a blood test. There was a kid in the next bay in traction with a shattered leg. He was playing a videogame.

I didn't see much else because I felt so exhausted my head dropped straight back onto the pillow. I closed my eyes and tried to go to sleep but the stupid toddler was screaming to loudly. It was only a pinprick for god's sake! Mind you, I'm one to talk. I screwed my knee just to avoid being stuck with an IV, which I ended up having later anyway. Lucky me.

I couldn't sleep. Since when did hospital beds become less comfy than the cardboard box I was used to? I tried to turnover, but then my chest reminded me movement was out of the question.

"Aaah!" I moaned and swore quietly under my breath.

The boy next door called the nurse. She came and checked on me and scolded me for moving. Then she asked me some questions.

"What's your name, little one?"

"Jade"

"Full name?" she asked, looking at the file on the end of my bed.

"Jade Anne Smith."

"Says Camden here." She said

"That's wrong." I whispered. I couldn't have anyone know my real name. She gave me a look like I didn't know anything.

"Are you sure?" She said

"Yes."

"How many fingers am I holding up?" she asked absent-mindedly while she checked my chest wasn't bleeding.

"Three."

"Good girl. Are you in pain?"

Nu-Duh! Lady!

"Yes."

"I'll up your morphine a little. See how you do."

She gave me a huge toothy smile. I guess it was meant to be encouraging. Oh well, she was trying to be nice. It was better than having some old hag look after me. She was friendlier than Batman anyway. At least on the outside.

I smiled back, but it probably looked more like a grimace. She made some notes on my chart and walked off.

I tried to go to sleep again but the toddler still hadn't stopped screaming.

It was going to be a long day.

About four hours of hell later I had visitors. Two policemen had come to see me. Great.

Charges dropped, my arse.

Actually, there wasn't even a mention of it, even when I tried to bring it up. I tried to bring up batman as well, but that was dismissed too.

These cops had one purpose. They were telling me I was going to a children's home until I was fully recovered, then I would be put up for adoption. First I had to get better though, they said. The reason they were there was to make sure I didn't try and run for my life.

Children's home. I wasn't stupid. This was Gotham. Children's homes suck.

* * *

It was two weeks later.

I had been out of hospital for six days. I was meant to have physiotherapy every day according to the woman who had looked after me in Batman's lair. I'd had physiotherapy in hospital and it hadn't been fun to say the least. My bed had been tilted so I was upside down and they rolled me onto my stomach. Then the physiotherapist had started smacking my back in a way that was probably meant to dislodge gunk from my lungs. It did. I choked twice in the first session and ended up vomiting. My back was sore from being pounded and I couldn't speak for hours afterwards without coughing. I hated it. But it was that or have my lungs scarred for life.

When I had come to the children's home my daily dosage of antibiotics mysteriously went down to half. I hoped it was because I was getting better. I was wrong. There was no physiotherapy and my lungs were seizing up. I woke up in the middle of the night panting because I couldn't breathe and I could hardly make it downstairs for meals.

I knew then that I wasn't getting better. The other kids hated me because I kept them awake with my coughing. I didn't mean to, I just couldn't help it.

I hated being sick and I hated medicine and I despised the physiotherapy I'd had in hospital, but I realized it was better than being sick forever. Being unable to do anything truly sucked.

I had to find out what had happened and why I wasn't getting better.

I asked the lady who runs the home when my doctor's checkup was. She looked at me as if I was an alien. I asked her about the physio and got the same response. She didn't even talk to me about, but sniffed and walked off for a smoke.

It was like when they cut off my hair.

When they picked me up from the hospital it was a matted mess and rather than shampoo it and sort it out they shaved my head. They weren't very gentle about it either. I had scratches all over my scalp and they'd yelled at me when I told them I just wanted to brush it. I felt like crying but I didn't. It was just hair, it wasn't alive or anything, right? It wasn't a part of me?

I coughed for hours because I couldn't cry. Every sob was a cough.

That night I decided to see what my record was.

Every child in the home had an electronic record. It contained their background information, medical file and a character assessment for anyone looking to adopt. It also contained instructions on the child's individual needs and schooling.

I needed to find mine and have a look at the instructions. I didn't trust these people. I had a feeling mine had been tampered with.

* * *

Batman sat in his cave. He was almost bored. The Joker had been returned to Arkham Asylum when Batman had caught him robbing a bank. He'd seemed subdued. He guessed it was because his joker gas was now useless and now he didn't have the money to develop a new one.

Batman sighed. He'd tucked Dick into bed after hard days training. He didn't even have any paperwork to do as Bruce Wayne. How could the CEO of a city's main company run out of paperwork? How could a vigilante of Gotham run out of crime?

It had never happened before.

He contented himself with updating his files on his computer before patrol. That actually didn't take him very long. He could move all the stuff back into the med bay, but he had a feeling Alfred may already have done.

He checked anyway. He could save the old man some heavy lifting.

Everything had been put back and the beds lay sheetless and sterile. Something niggled at his mind. He tried not to think about the fact that he'd almost killed a young girl. She'd collapsed in his arms and he'd thought she'd been playing dead until she started turning blue. But she was all right. Perfectly safe and sound. Safe anyway. Probably. Maybe. In a children's home with other kids her own age. She was probably fine. Maybe.

Then it hit him. He'd meant to check up on her. He could do that before patrol.

He typed Jade Camdem into his computer program and began looking through public records and health records, even the police records. Nothing came up but an old police file from Australia detailing the disappearance of people close to the Camdem family. Eventually the father, Ben, was found to be a serial killer. Batman frowned at this. Not a happy situation. This couldn't be her family could it?

He managed to call up a picture of the family from a local newspaper. It was very bad quality. There was a mother and father and two children. One was a little boy who looked about seven. The kid hadn't been able to keep still so there was a motion blur all around him as he rushed to hug the smaller child. Bruce was reminded strongly of Dick.

The smaller child was a two-year-old girl with red hair. She was clinging to the leg of her father's pants and looking at the camera with blind terror on her face. Or at least, she might have been. It was hard to tell. The parents were smiling but it looked very forced, even with the bad photo quality. There was something about the mothers forced smile that was disturbing. Like she was trying to hide her eyes behind her cheeks. The photograph was very bad quality and there wasn't very much he could do to improve it. That's all he could surmise from it.

It didn't look like the girl but he couldn't really tell. Besides, she had red hair and red hair didn't change color as the owner grew up so she couldn't be the blonde girl he'd had in the cave. Then he noticed something. The mother had brown hair but the father had black. Wasn't red hair a dominant gene? How could you have red hair if only one of your parents had it? The boy had red hair too. How was that possible? Had the mother fooled around? Were the children adopted?

They were all viable theories but the family still looked related. The kids and father were definitely family. The shapes of the faces were too similar. The father and son were instantly recognisable as related.

It occurred to him that this was an investigation for another time.

He needed to find out where the girl had gotten to. He found her police records, the ones he gave Gordon but after that everything trace seemed to vanish.

An idea occurred to him. He limited his search to records that had been edited in the last month and in Gotham. He changed the name to Jade Smith.

He got two hits; a hospital record and a child welfare services record.

She'd changed her name again. He wondered why. Why was she hiding?

He looked at the records.

Something wasn't right he could feel it. This kid was trouble; he'd known it since he'd laid eyes on her. Something was wrong.

Then he realized. The CWS record said absolutely nothing about her hospital record, yet she'd been picked up from the hospital by the children's home.

How could they miss something like that? She'd had a life threatening illness that might well affect her for the rest of her life and it was skipped over. In fact, other than her name, age and appearance it said nothing about her. Her medical record was completely missing from CWS. They didn't even list her allergy to penicillin.

Batman smelt a rat. He'd go visit this Children's Home tonight.


	8. Chapter 8

I got out of bed as quietly as I could, muffling my coughs in my pillow. It was time.

The office they kept the records in was kept locked most of the time but I knew a thing or two about picking locks. I wasn't professional but your average cheap padlock or doorknob gave out after ten minutes with the right tools. Unfortunately I only had a pocketknife I'd secreted from under the kitchen sink when it was my turn to do the dishes. It would do. Eventually.

I snuck slowly down the stairs, stopping twice to catch my breath and still muffling my coughs with the pillow. I didn't remember being quite this breathless before. It must have been the excitement. I crept slowly towards the office. Then I noticed the door was already ajar.

A stroke of luck?

No way. Maybe someone had broken in to steal the computer, in which case I was in deep trouble. Another coughing fit overcame me. I tried not to make a sound and cover it up with the pillow, but I couldn't. I felt weak from lack of oxygen.

No way. I thought. I'm not going to keep being this sick.

I stood up and walked into the office. I was ready to get shot or be stabbed or even be pleasantly surprised at its emptiness.

I didn't expect the door to close shut behind me.

I looked around in panic.

Shit.

"Smith?" growled a voice. I recognized it. It was far scarier in the dark.

I nodded, and then realized he probably couldn't see me now there was no light filtering through the door.

"Yeah?" I asked.

Please just let him be delivering my old clothes, I begged

"Why not Camdem?" he demanded

I gave a couple of coughs. Bugger. If I collapsed in front of him it'd be the same thing all over again.

"I – cough – can't use it. Cough. Not me anymore." I sounded like an old lady.

"Why?"

"Just can't."

"Tell me!"

I shivered. It was the man beating his wife all over again. It was the people yelling as they shaved off my hair.

"I can't," I croaked.

"You will."

I wasn't going to cry. I wasn't going to cry. I wasn't going to cry.

"Can't," I gasped

He glared at me. I could see his eyes glowing in the dark. I heard his footsteps come towards me.

I dropped on the floor. My eyes were tearing up. No! Wouldn't cry! No matter what!

I coughed until I was gasping. I couldn't breath again. I felt dizzy. I needed to calm down, to get my breathing under control.

I put my head in my hands and pretended I was with Steve and we were telling each other stories again, that we were feeling. Steve had just told me a dirty joke and I was laughing. I calmed down thinking of the laughter. That was the last time I'd laughed. It sounded like music.

Then it changed and it was the men dying in the hallway while I sat and listened. While they begged and pleaded for mercy and convulsed, I lay down and did nothing but curl up in a ball. Just like I was doing now. Acting all dramatic and useless.

I opened my eyes again.

There was a torch shining in my face. I couldn't see past it.

Not again. I groaned. I'd had enough of this. I reached up and tried to slap it away but someone caught my wrist.

They didn't let go.

"Why not Camdem?" asked the voice.

It was no less harsh than before, but I didn't let it bring up flashbacks this time.

"That's none of your business."

"It is. Where is Ben Camdem?" he demanded

He knew that much? How much of the truth did he know?

"Don't know. I ran off. Haven't seen him and my brother in over a year." I croaked.

I needed a glass of water.

"And your mother?"

I didn't want to talk about what happened to my mum. I stared at the hand holding my wrist. I was probably being dramatic again, but I swear I felt my wrist twinge.

He didn't get any nicer when I didn't answer him

"Your mother?" He demanded in a voice of quiet venom.

It was scarier that way. It reminded me of **Him**, but never mind who he is.

My eyes grew wet. No more drama. I thought to myself. Just get over it. My breathing had sped up again. I needed water or something to calm me down. I tried to struggle out of his grip. I couldn't of course. I needed water or something. My breathing was speeding up. I tried to slow it down. It wasn't working. It was like an asthma attack. I tried my best not to panic. I looked at the batman. He may have just sounded like Him, but he couldn't be all bad. Please don't let him be all bad.

"Help." I croaked.

He glared at me. My breathing got worse. I tried to cough but couldn't. There wasn't enough air. I was feeling dizzy again when I felt something jam into my mouth. It pumped air into me and I relaxed in relief.

I opened my eyes. He was looking at me. Not glaring, just looking. I sat for a few minutes. Its very uncomfortable being stared at by a crazy vigilante dressed as a bat and whom you know is smarter than you.

I wasn't stupid. I'd seen on the news how the bat supposedly developed the joker gas antidote. I believed it too. He wasn't just a brute; he was smart as well. And now he was staring at me. God knows what he was thinking.

When my breathing had slowed and my heart wasn't racing so much, I removed the thing from my mouth.

"Thanks." I croaked.

"You still didn't answer." He growled

"I can't talk about my mum." I looked him in the face. I wanted him to understand this. I didn't want to have to bring it up.

"You don't have to worry about her though." I whispered

I finally managed to take my wrist out of his grip. I crawled across to the computer.

He followed.

The computer was already turned on. In fact, it already had my file open. Batman must've opened it. He'd opened something else as well; it looked like the data history. I'd seen it before when my dad had been hacking.

So batman was a computer whiz and a chemistry/microbiology expert.

Great. I was way out of my league.

I looked at the data history. It was encoded, but I could pick out bits here and there. I recognized the word delete and I recognized my medical records file.

"They deleted my file?" I asked

Batman nodded.

"Too expensive to look after me, I guess." I coughed out a couple more times.

Damn my throat hurt. I needed water.

"I have a friend who might help you out." He said quietly.

I bit my tongue. I didn't want to meet anyone who had managed to become friends with the Bat. That batman had friends was surprising. But I didn't say that. I valued my skin too much. He could probably read it of my face anyway.

"Pack your stuff. They'll pick you up tomorrow."

I turned around and he was gone, but he'd left his breather thing on the desk. I guess he didn't want me dead or he wouldn't have left it.

I crawled back up the stairs to bed. It was a long time before I fell asleep.

The next day I woke up late. It was a good thing because I'd barely slept. I was going to pack up my stuff and move on with whoever came and collected me. Not like I had much to pack.

I got myself a plastic bag and packed my pajamas and my other pair of clothes. That was pretty much it, and technically they belonged to the children's home. I wasn't sure if I'd be allowed to keep them. The dorm room was empty except for me. I usually spent my day in bed anyway, so I didn't really know its other inhabitants. I didn't even have to say goodbye. There wasn't anything I was leaving behind but I couldn't help but be scared of where I was going.

* * *

Thankyou to Brittany Brown and Leighgion for reviewing.

The next chapter is the final chapter.

There may be a sequel or some one shots. let me know if you think i should post them.


	9. Chapter 9

Sorry i haven't updated in ages. I just started college. Whoo! now thats hard work.

Disclaimer- cause i haven't put anything up in a while i think its best if i recap - I don't own any DC characters. Jade's mine, feel welcome to borrow her (ask in a review).

* * *

Adopting another kid probably wasn't the smartest thing to do, especially considering he could barely speak to the one he already had. Bruce found himself going to dinner and sit across from the young boy in complete silence. He had no idea how to talk to him really. They'd had conversations and the kid had discovered he was batman, but beyond that they didn't talk of anything. The kid just sat there with sad eyes and ate his soup before practically running from the table back to his room. He should probably stop calling him the kid. The boy's name was Dick; he had to use it more. But kid matched him better because he was so hyperactive. He was a poster child for ADHD.

Now he was getting another child, probably not permanently, just until she didn't have any expensive medical costs that came with her. Then she could go back to the children's home and be adopted by some nice family. She could go and have a normal life and regrow her hair. That would be it. He had no intention of keeping her. One child was enough.

For now this solution seemed to be the only one. He'd use his lawyers and influence to gain temporary custody and then when she no longer needed help he'd set her up with a nice family. A done deal.

So why did he feel like he was walking to his death?

He rang the bell of the children's home. Alfred was with him, as well as the local magistrate who had signed the order giving him custody. He couldn't back out now.

A severe looking lady answered the door. She invited them in, though she didn't really have a choice in the matter. It was badly lit inside but they managed to stumble down to the office.

The woman printed the girl's file and went to fetch her.

Alfred was looking out the door at the rest of the children's home with disapproval bordering on horror.

There was nothing out there. There was a small kitchenette in one corner with a huge pot on top of a stove. There was a staircase leading of from the corridor up to the dorms and bathroom. That was it. There wasn't so much as a chair or a couch in the place. There weren't even windows, just dodgy lights on the staircase and kitchenette.

Bruce frowned.

He'd actually given money to this particular children's home and if he remembered correctly, it had been no small amount; these children should have been living in luxury. But obviously the money had gone somewhere else.

The woman arrived at the top of the stairs dragging the girl behind her. The kid couldn't keep up.

"Stop fussing." The woman snapped. The girl still walked with a stoop and very slowly. The stairs were especially hard on her. She stumbled a little.

"Should I call an ambulance or the chauffeur?" grumbled Alfred under his breath.

Upon seeing that she had an audience the woman gave a forced tightlipped smile.

The woman fetched her a glass of water as she made her way into the office. The girl tried to smile, but upon seeing the three men she looked a little scared. To be expected, he guessed.

Bruce introduced himself and Alfred, explaining that the magistrate was there as a legal witness to the custody transference.

Bruce signed a couple of forms, even whining a bit about the paperwork to add to the image of being a fop.

Then they piled into the limo, Alfred in the front seat with the driver and Bruce sitting uncomfortably with his new charge. He wasn't really keen on starting a conversation but he could see Alfred staring daggers at him in the rear view mirror. You don't upset Alfred. You don't upset any man who deals with the maintenance of your jump lines and bulletproof armor.

So he told the girl about Dick. Not everything though. Dick would not appreciate him telling a stranger about his parents.

It was really just an excuse to hide the uncomfortable silence, which soon came back because the girl couldn't really say much without coughing. So he talked about how he could get her treatment back underway and she'd be good as new in no time. At least his forced cheerfulness reinforced the image of being a fop.

It was a relief when they arrived at the mansion.

JADE'S POV

Bugger. Things just don't seem to be going my way, I thought.

It was bad enough that Bruce Wayne was looking after me, it was worse that he was trying to be friendly and it was absolutely horrible that he lived in a house the size of a mall complex. I wondered if it had its own supermarket. Then another thought occurred to me. It had better have a lift because there was no way I was going to be able to walk up all those stairs. It did however, have grounds. When a house is big enough to have grounds and not just a garden its owner has far more money than they know what to do with. I liked the grounds, or what I could see of them out the limo window. There were trees and lots of green grass. There was even a greenhouse in the distance. Maybe it had a vegetable patch? Then the house wouldn't need its own supermarket. Then I recognized the type of ground. Limestone with ripples in it, I could see the faint outline of them on the distant hills. The house was on a fault line. There might even be caves out there somewhere.

Not that I'd get the chance to go caving. This manor was only my home until I got better and by the time I was well enough to go caving or wandering about the grounds I would be back at the children's home. I wasn't having much luck.

When we stopped, Mr. Wayne opened the car door for me. His butler got my bag and took it up to my room.

Argh! I was being waited upon.

I'd barely said a word the whole trip, mainly because my throat was so sore. Also, I didn't know how to talk to any of these people. They were strangers. Batman's strangers, but i don't trust a man who pins you against a wall for giving him an answer he doesn't like.

Mr. Wayne helped me up the front steps into the house. That one I appreciated, but i didn't really like a stranger touching me. I didn't really have a choice though. The front room was huge. At least it had more windows than the children's home. Mr. Wayne was saying something about it being very old, but I wasn't really listening. The place was huge and intimidating. I couldn't really get over it.

Then a boy came down the huge staircase. He looked just as lost in the place as I did. He was small and skinny with black hair. He was probably a little younger than me. This must've been the boy Mr. Wayne had been talking about in the car. He didn't really say much. He came up to me and introduced himself as Dick and that was about it really. Silence reigned until Mr. Wayne suggested Dick show me to my room.

Then we were off up the stairs. Dick had to help me most of the way.

"You really are sick, huh." He said.

I was relieved when we finally did reach my room. It was big with a huge bed and a bathroom. It had a balcony with white curtains framing the door. All the furniture matched and the bed had a look about it that said; if you jump on me I will cost you your life savings. It even had an entertainment system. Dick stood in the doorway behind me, waiting to see what I would think.

"Its all so huge." I croaked

"Yeah. That's what I thought when I first came here."

I nodded. I still couldn't speak much.

"My room is just across the hallway. Its pretty much the same, except the bed sheets aren't pink." Said Dick, indicating my bed.

"I hate pink." I croaked

Dick laughed.

"Same, but you're a girl, you're meant to like it."

I smiled. My stomach grumbled.

"Alfred will probably bring us lunch in a few minutes." Said Dick

"Alfred?" I croaked

"Yeah. English chap. Butler to his lordship. Sergeant major Alfred Pennyworth; Enemy of all known dust, dirt and kids who don't brush their teeth for the full three minutes before bed."

Dick saluted and did a Charlie Chaplin march. I burst out laughing. I was soon coughing up a lung and he had to get me a glass of water from the bathroom, but I didn't mind. Laughing was worth it.

"Come on, I'll show you how to work the TV. It's complicated. Even Bruce can't get his off of the Disney channel occasionally." Dick sniggered  
"I caught him watching Darkwing Duck."

"You're kidding?"

"Nope."

It was a good thing I still had my glass of water or else I'd be dead.

We spent half an hour trying to get it off the AV channel before Alfred came in with sandwiches and a spoonful of horrible tasting medicine for me. Then he told me about my physio appointments.

Joy.

"We have a physiotherapist who will come each night and treat you for the next few weeks. Master Bruce has taken the liberty of buying a specialized bed for your use during these sessions."

"Thank you." I croaked

Yay. Lucky me.

Hang on a second. That voice was familiar.

Nah, it couldn't be. Could it?

Oh well, I could never be sure even if it was the same man.

Alfred fixed the telly for us and left.

"So that's Alfred?" I croaked

"Yep."

"He nice?"

"Yeah. Makes good cookies, but don't upset him. He controls everything in this house."

"Hmmm."

We went back to watching an old series of doctor who and cackling when a blow up pool toy masquerading as a monster attacked the doctor.

It was a nice normal afternoon.

It was something I was proud of. It was normal. There were no shadows or crying or hiding or being scared. It was a normal afternoon. I'd probably have lots of these while I was here.

So it was that when it was time for my daily physio and the physiotherapist suggested I be hooked up to an oxygen machine while I slept, I didn't protest. I didn't so much as wince when they started pounding my back. Then it was time for bed.

I slept well.

For now, I have a home. I thought

* * *

I have decided. There shall be a sequel. and i will forworn you it will be gory and maybe adult cause its gonna be scary - american phsycho style. (you can tell I'm a Christian Baile fangirl huh? 


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